Miracles
by ThreeBulletsAtTheDangerParade
Summary: Gabriella is a bulimic beauty queen. Troy is the mortician's depressed son. They both hate what their lives have become. But when tragedy strikes Gabriella and the two meet in the most curious of ways, the answer is born. And through each other maybe they can learn that life is indeed worth living.
1. Meet Troy

_Oh oh oh oh oh _

_I've been up and I don't sleep enough_

_And oh oh_

_I don't sleep enough _

_And oh oh _

_I know we don't talk as much but I can hear you still_

_Oh oh oh oh oh _

_Dead Oaks by Now, Now_

* * *

The brown haired teen moved gracefully around the grey room. The blinds were drawn, sealing the young man away, clothing him in the shades of grey, only letting a slim trickling light slide through. The tiny beam slithered across the dreary room, over the teen's camera, over his muscled shoulder, and over the body on the table.

The man on the table was the late Mr. Monroe. After his wife, Elena Monroe died a year ago; the once cheery elderly man became a shadow, a shell, if you will, of himself. So long were the days where he and his wife would stroll down the dirt roads, their withering hands clasped tightly, fingers laced, and wedding rings rubbing together. Their happy smiles had finally faded from the sleepy world that they lived in, three days ago when the grief became too much for the windowed man.

The blue eyed teen scribbled down a few more notes into his book about the elderly man, adding in a few details about his wife, their only son, and his own memory of the small encounter he had with them as child. Mrs. Monroe and given him a glass of her famous, tart lemonade in exchange for the dainty, little daisy he had picked from the side of the dusty road. He remember faintly as the elderly woman had bent down to retrieve the flower from his tiny, chubby hand, her greying hair fell in a curtain over her shoulder and the scent of vanilla wafted over him. Her bright smile, her tiny crooked teeth, her thin lips, and the smile lines were vivid in his mind's eye, her next words, rolling off her tongue stayed with him. _Innocence _She had reminded him. _The daisy in your hands resembles innocence. Don't let the passing of your mother destroy that, baby boy. _

Of course the little boy had known what the flower had meant, his mother had been a florist. He remember spending hours next to her, as she arranged, and cared for the flowers with the upmost tender love, her auburn hair swept over her shoulder as she point to each flower, naming them and telling the young child the meanings of each one, her rosy lips pulled into a glowing smile as she joined the two things she loved most. Her son and the flowers. But the teen digressed. The words had been exactly what the angry child had needed to make it through the next years of his life.

The teenager looked back over the body of the man, the embalming fluid ready to preserve the man, before the blue eyed man dressed him and arranged his coffin for the funeral service that was in few days.

He continued on with his work for the next couple of hours until he was sure Mr. Monroe _was dressed to kill_. Troy remarked in his mind before wincing at the horrible pun. The teen known as Troy Bolton, sighed, there was a reason being funny wasn't something of a talent of his, really though, he could blame it on his anti-social tendencies.

"You ready for you date, Mr. Monroe?" He asked the corpse slyly. "I'm sure Mrs. Monroe will be delighted to see you again. Say hi, for me, will you?" Troy turned to his camera, perched on the stand, shaking his head.

"Talking to corpses again…" Troy made a tsk tsk noise, and clucked his tongue. He ran a callused hand through his shaggy hair, muttering more. "And talking to myself apparently too…"

He leaned down, looking through the old style camera, and Mr. Monroe's sleeping face came into focus. Quickly Troy snapped a picture and let the shot slide out, before picking it up and setting it next to his notes.

"Troy! Troy!" His father's calls interrupted his thoughts, pulling him back into the land of the living. His job was done, so he shrugged off the mortician's clothing and heading back up stairs and away from the basement and Mr. Monroe's ready corpse.

He peeked his head through to find his father, smiling up at him, his hunched back backing it even harder to look up at his towering son.

"Yeah dad?" He asked, sliding forward. His father licked his lips, his mouth moving silently as he always did before he began the troubling task of speech.

"Tanner—Tanner Monroe-oe done asked if he's fa-father wud ready-dy. He-he called on the—the telephone-ne." Troy nodded and smiled at his father, patiently watching as his mouth began to move silently again. "An' I—I gone and told-d 'im, he about d-done."

"Yeah, Mr. Monroe is done dad, no worries." Troy shrugged as he began his way up to his own room for a much needed shower. "If he calls again, tell him he can come and get him whenever—just let it be between hours, ok?" He let his words sink in with his father before the older man bobbed his head up and down. Troy began to climb the stairs, smiling slightly as he remembered the time Mr. Bolton had let in one of the grieving family members when they came by around 11 at night. It had given Troy quite the scare to find his father talking with someone in the late of night in their house.

"Okie, T-Troy." When his father answered him, Troy took his chance to head up and finally take that much needed shower.

"Night, dad."

Troy slipped into his room in the aging farmhouse, grabbed some boxers before retreating into the bathroom. As Troy stripped down and crept into the steaming shower, the water droplets rolling off his muscled, tan skin, he let his mind wonder as one does when in the shower. His thoughts weren't too important, just small musings, things about his writings, his art, music, his father, the bodies he embalmed, and his beautiful mother.

He shut off the water 20 minutes later, shaking his scattered thoughts away and stepped out onto the titled floor, wrapping a fluffy towel around his waist. He looked at himself in the mirror, with water dripping from his shaggy hair; his cerulean eyes stared back at hi accusingly. He could see his mother in his eyes and it pained him. He wondered how his father could stand to look at them. He turned away from the mirror and slipping on the clean boxers, running a smaller towel through his hair in a lame attempt to dry the chestnut locks. Without any thought, he tossed the smaller towel the side, and onto the wooden floor, before collapsing onto his bed. He drew the covers around him, shoving the thoughts of his writings away. He needed sleep. Grabbing his iPod, he selected the playlist he wanted, songs mostly consisting of indie music and the occasional angsty, emo band. Nothing hard or loud, just soothing. He let his eyelids droop, his eyelashes hitting his cheeks as he drifted off.

* * *

**Look at me… Doing more stories… Ugh. Bad Emma. Stahp. So many PJO stories that I've been neglecting… And my MCR stories too… But this needs to be written. Along with two other Troyella stories…. Dammit Emma. **

**And to clarify, this story is based after the movie Elvis and Anabelle, which I highly recommend if you're into cute, adorable, depressing, little indie films. **


	2. Meet Gabriella

Gabriella rubbed her thin, pale fingers against her temples, massaging her skin in attempt to sooth her aching head. She looked in the steaming mirror and grimaced. This was not the way Ms. Arizona was supposed to look. Ms. Arizona was gorgeous, fleshed out, and charming. She had thick, glossy hair, maroon eyes, and tan skin. The girl in the mirror was hardly that. Her hair was matted and dull, despite just having taken an hour in the shower, her eyes were lack-luster, and her skin was pale and papery.

Gabriella looked at her bare body and felt sick. Her skin was tight around her bones, every sharp angle of her bones poked out and the brunette was surprised her bones hadn't broken through her flesh. She felt the urge to throw up as her eyes moved from her hipbones to her skinny legs that looked more like twigs than legs. Her knees were knobby and stood out on her curve less legs, actually, her curve less body. She wiggled her boney toes, the bright red on her toenails even looked sad and lifeless. Bile crept up her throat and she tossed her tiny body over to the white bowl.

She retched, only a little bile slipping out from between her cracked and now bleeding lips. She pressed her cheek to the cold rim and let a few tears slip under her eyelashes, off her nose, and into the toilet water down below. The pain that was exploding in her stomach and abdomen was excruciating. But only a moment later she lifted her heavy head up and wiped her tears away. Shakily her legs lifted her up and she retrieved a fluffy white towel to wrap around her body.

She grabbed the bottle of mouthwash and took a swig. She spat out the blue fluid before grabbing the hair drier and beginning the long tedious job of doing her hair and eventually her make up.

"Gabriella!" Her mother's sharp voice hollered from behind the thick, wooden door, her fist pounding, causing Gabriella's headache to intensify. "_Gabriella_! _Answer _me!" The fake Brooklyn accent her mom had adapted for whatever _high-end fashion _reason or whatever, grated against her skin. She hated what the pageantry had done to her mom. She hated what it had done to herself. She hated what it had done to her life.

"_Gab-ri-ella!_" Gabriella rolled her eyes when her mom started separating her name into different syllables, and that god-awful faux accent, just added to her pain. She bit her lip to conceal her groan that would only get her a verbal beating over _lady-like behaviors_, _respecting her mother_, and the inevitable but completely unrelated, _what's wrong with Bill_?

Bill. Her mom's fiancé. Her step-dad to be. Gabriella detested him. He was filthy, disgusting, and greedy. He was only with her mom for the money Gabi made from her pageants. And not that that was much anyways. Gabriella always felt uncomfortable with him, nervous, and unsafe. Something about him was off, the way he looked at Gabriella freaked her out, his little smile that flashed those tiny crooked teeth her mom somehow over looked, sent shivers down her spine; and not in a good way.

She wished her mom would dump the creep, but for whatever reason her mom adored him. Inviting him to all her pageants, to dinners, to _live with them_. She didn't feel safe at all around him and his balding head. He had walked into her dressing room several times before and after pageants, with the excuse of, "_Oh, I thought your mom was here… You look beautiful Gabriella._" It scared her when he lingered around, when he hugged her and kept his arms around her too long, and that one time where she had been only in a towel and he had brushed a few stray hairs from her face, her own body paralyzed in fear.

Fortunately all the times he had wondered in to her room uninvited she been either still in her pageant clothes, in the bathroom, or all ready dressed. Only that once had she been in a towel and it was something she made sure never happened again, by only changing in the bathroom.

She wondered if her mom knew her fiancé was a pervert.

"What Maria?" Gabriella addressed her mother only out loud as Maria unless of course there was a pair of Prada heels that would _absolutely look fantastic for the next pageant._ A little schmoozing didn't hurt anyone and as a pageant girl, she knew how to schmooze. She could practically hear the eye roll her mom was giving her.

"Gabi, what did I say about using my name?" Gabriella sighed, out loud this time, but not loud enough for her mother to hear,

"What do you _want_ Maria?" Her mom huffed from behind the door but furthermore dropped it.

"Are you ready to come out? Bill and I want to treat you to dinner tonight. After all you are now Ms. Arizona and we're so proud of you." The faux motherly tone in her voice clashed with the horrible accent. "Especially Bill. He said you look absolutely stunning up there and he has a surprise for you." Her mother squealed while Gabriella gagged. If she hadn't just throw up the last of whatever the hell that had been, she was sure she would be over the toilet bowl in a second. She hated the way her mom's voice sounded when she talked about her fiancé, as if he was the greatest thing that had ever happened in her life. It was disgusting.

"Fine. Whatever. Let me get finished."

"Don't take the tone with me, young lady." Her mom snapped and Gabriella snorted quietly.

"Hey now, no fighting, tonight's a good night. Let's not spoil any fun, okay?" Gabriella was frozen, her body rigid and stiff when Bill's voice sounded from out in her room. She suddenly felt a rush of anger, how dare that creep come walking into her room? Her mother giggled like a schoolgirl and Gabriella imagined her fake-blonde mother throwing her arms around his shoulders and giving him a big kiss. The mental imagine disgusted her further. She could hear the sound of the adults smooching from behind the door and felt the need to vomit all over again.

"Hey Gabi you almost done?" Bill asked her, obviously done kissing her mom for now. "Cause your dress for tonight is still out here."

Gabriella cursed as the panic set in. She knew both adults weren't going to leave, she'd have to either walk out there in nothing but a towel, a really short towel, or have one of them give it to her and she knew Bill would be more than willing to hand her the dress at the chance of sneak-peak of her bare body. She shuddered. And the dress… Gabi wanted to cry, the dress had been picked out and bought by Bill as a gift, and it was… Incredibly revealing. It was bare back, short, and there were two long slits up the side that were supposed to show off her legs. Plus the cut around the bust dipped down to give a clear showing of all that she had to offer, which, wasn't much anymore.

She didn't want to ever see the dress, let alone wear it, but knowing her mom she was going to make Gabriella wear the thing. Bill would be able to see more of her body in that dress than he could see in the towel.

"Um, actually, I still have to take a shower." She answered hesitantly.

"What?" Her mom questioned. "What do you mean? You just took a shower!" Gabriella searched for the right words to say, panic bubbling up in the pit of her stomach.

"Um, well, yeah, but I kind of forgot to, uh" Gabriella scrambled for something, anything to say. Originally she was going to say shaving but immediately stopped when she thought of the dirty fantasies Bill could come up with. Just mentioning she was going to shower while Bill was in the same room freaked her out, hating the fact that he was probably thinking of her naked body right now.

"Yeah, whatever, Gabriella. Just be down, dressed, and ready by 7." Her mom said exasperatedly and Gabi let out a sigh of relief. "That's in 40 minutes so hurry up." She added before her voice switched from annoyed parent to love-struck teenager, "Come on Bill…" She purred. "Let's have some fun while we wait." It was disgusting to hear her mom flirt with Bill, but she'd take hours of them flirting and doing whatever else over Bill getting to see her in a towel or that dress.

"And remember Gabi, to take your pills. We don't need you having, _a problem_, tonight."

She listened as the two left her room, the door closing behind them before she let out a large sigh of relief and placed a hand over her fluttering heart. Quickly she dropped the towel and turned the water back on. Just thinking about Bill and that dress made her feel dirty, a shower, even a cold one, was needed.

* * *

The brunette beauty queen stuck her head out of the bathroom door, her eyes darting back and forth, scanning every corner of her room. When she finally decided Bill was not in the room, she scrambled forward to lock her door, before turning to her closet, completely ignoring the dress on her bed. She slid a few summery dressed over, one floral print, another pageant gown and then another. Finally she stopped at her named 'Go-To Dress' It was a simple sleeveless dress that hit at about her knees, if not a bit higher, so maybe it was a little boring, with only red embroidery on the hem of the black dress, but the dress made her feel safe, it covered her skin without it looking like she was trying to wear a turtleneck, and it left nothing for Bill to stare at, especially since the shrinking of her body, and ultimately her bust, there was nothing to show off. It was safe for dinner with Bill's wandering eyes.

She snatched a pair of black 2-inch heels, also another safe dress item, and a packet of gum. She grabbed a small handbag and tossed the packet of Extra into it, joining her phone and lipstick.

Giving herself one last once over, fluffing up her now-straighten hair and double checking her make up, she deemed herself ready. Stealing her courage she snatched the awful dress from her bed and tossed it into the trashcan before leaving her room and down the stairs to where she could hear her mom's loud and obnoxious laugh.

* * *

As she climbed into the backseat of the old Mercedes, Gabriella tried to ignore the disapproving and angry eyes of her mother. Maria was pissed that she wasn't in the dress Bill had gotten her, but Gabriella didn't care, she hated being near the man, she wasn't going to give either of them the satisfaction of her wearing that dress.

"Well _Mom_?" Gabi mocked from her seat in the back. "We're going to be late if continue to stand out there." She knew her mom could see the fake innocence and sweetness that dripped off her sarcastic words. But her mom wasn't going to do anything because, Gabi was right, and she'd just have to deal with it later.

"Right." Her mother said tightly. "Let's go." She offered her daughter a stiff smile before stepping into the driver's seat and Bill slid into the passenger seat.

Gabriella turned away from the adults up front and placed her head against the window of the car, letting the coolness spread from her cheek down her spine and to her toes. She was quiet content with the silence, though music would've been preferred, and didn't intend on breaking it.

"So Gabriella…" But apparently Bill did. "Aren't you curious about where this special dinner is?" The brunette wanted so badly to roll her eyes and scoff at the man. She didn't give a shit about where they were going. She wouldn't be allowed to eat anything anyways, and if she did it would only be a few bites of salad before her mom made her go to the bathroom and get rid of it. So where they were eating didn't make any difference to her.

But her mom was watching her in the rear view mirror through narrowed, threatening eyes, so Gabi clear her throat.

"Oh. Um, yeah sure, I guess…" Her mom coughed sharply. "I mean, where are we going Bill?" She was sure to add in all the extra sugary sweetness to attempt to half-heartily hide the boredom and sarcasm from her voice. Bill beamed anyways.

"We're going to Giovanni's!" Gabriella almost choked on her spit. Her eyes flickered to her mom, and Maria's eyes were smug, and wicked smirk placed on her lips. And in that instant Gabriella hated her mom, the woman who had birthed her. "That's an important place for you right?" Bill pressed.

Gabriella felt like screaming. Giovanni's was the restaurant her dad would always take her to when she either had a really crappy day or something big had happened. She had gone there the day of his funeral. Giovanni's was her special place where she could be with the memory of her dad and the boy at the funeral, it was a safe place and her mom knew that. And now it would be tainted with bulimia, ADHD pills, and Bill.

"Uh." She croaked. "I…"

* * *

The dinner had been horrendous. Gabriella had never felt so depressed in her life, sitting at the table she and her daddy used to sit at as she picked at her skimpy salad, taking a total of two bites before her mother gave her a pointed look. The look that meant, _you better get rid of that quick. _

Gabriella grabbed her sweats and baggy t-shirt that was once her dad's and headed into the bathroom to change. She wiped all the makeup off her face, scrubbing her skin raw and pink, and stripped before climbing into the shower for a total of four times that day.

This shower, however was quick and only 10 minutes later she was out and putting on her sleep wear for the night.

She walked over to the door of her bedroom and flipped the lock. Bill didn't make her feel safe; there was no way she was going to take any chances with him. Then she plopped down on her bed, happy to be free of makeup and contacts for a little while, and slid under the covers. She glanced at the book on her nightstand, _Pride and Prejudice,_ before deciding against it and removed her glasses. Snuggling into her pillow she forced herself to think of the happy times at Giovanni's with her dad and the cerulean blue eyes of the boy at the funeral.

* * *

Troy watched his father in lazy affection, as the elderly man continued to play golf way out there in the field. He glanced down at his own journal, filled with the beginnings of thousands of stories. Some were only ideas, others maybe only a plot, maybe even a piece of poetry or a snippet of lyrics, and while some were fully fleshed out stories that he had the pleasure to read to his father. The sun was warm against his tan face and he felt at ease in the swinging porch bench, his writing in one hand, and a pen in the other. His acoustic guitar stood next to him on the aging porch in case he decided he needed a break.

But it was moment like these that Troy learned to treasure and enjoy. Where the sun's warmth was welcomed, and the outdoors smelled of summer. When there was no body to be embalmed, no work to be done. His father could play his golf happily while Troy could write and be creative without having to worry about covering up the fact that his father wasn't healthy enough to do the embalming anymore. Where he wasn't reminded of the short time span he had with his last living relative.

Just watching the distant figure of his father out there, swinging away with deadly precision, he could forget all the different mental illnesses that plague his father; he could pretend almost that it was his father who was taking care of him, not the other way around. But it didn't matter really, Troy loved his father, despite the rocky relationship they had back when Troy was in high school.

It was times like these where Troy could kick his feet up and just bask in the sun, and pretend everything was all right. It was these days Troy held onto and forced himself to remember when the depression became too much. When the sound of suicide sounded more and more appealing by the second. But he could never do that to his father. Jack Bolton needed someone to look after him, to put food on the table, keep the house over his head, to stop the depression and loneliness that hung over the hunchbacked man ever since the death of Lucille. The death of his son would destroy him, and Troy could never bring himself to hurt his father anymore than he had.

* * *

**So that's number two. Please review guys! I'm trying to make these chapters as long as possible.**


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